


take comfort prompts

by eomerking



Series: take comfort [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Relationship(s), T for swearing, marriage/proposal, unadultered fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eomerking/pseuds/eomerking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots that fit into the universe of 'take comfort', in no particular order.</p><p>1- Bellamy's proposal<br/>2- Minty ahoy</p><p>(tags will be updated as chapters are added))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. panic in a vineyard

**Author's Note:**

> (I'd recommend reading take comfort before this, bc otherwise *spoilers*)
> 
> hey, so i can never really leave thinsg be, i'm going to write one-shots and stuff for the 'take comfort' au.  
> so first up is the proposal from Bellamy's pov - a prompt from Giesy.

Bellamy has always been good with declarations; he’s a police officer, he knows what to say and when to say it. He knows what will have the greatest effect and what will get him what he wants. He’s stood as witness in court, chased down criminals, and solved cases that took years of work - all with calm, and and a stomach free of butterflies.

Yet the thought of proposing to Clarke Griffin has him in absolute knots.

Raven had helped him plan the actual proposal, down to every last detail. She’d been invaluable when it came to picking out the ring (Really, Bellamy? Is that the one you’re going for? Do you even _know_ Clarke?), the venue (Why would _Clarke_ want to go on a tour of an aqueduct?) even his speech (Yes, say that! She’ll be in tears by the end of it. Perfect!).

Eventually they (Raven) had settled it all. Bellamy was going to take Clarke to the south of France, and they were going to eat at posh restaurants and drink fancy wine and laze about in the sunlight all day. It was going to be perfect; a beautiful start to rest of their lives.

Throughout the whole of Thursday, Bellamy’s partner had been snickering and smirking. Miller seemed unnaturally amused by the fact that Bellamy was so terrified.

“C’mon, Bell. She’ll say yes.”

Bellamy stares down at the grain of his desk and tries to pretend that he’s filling out paperwork. Miller looks skyward and sighs, rolling over to Bellamy on his desk chair.

“Right,” He snatches away Bellamy’s pen and holds it away from him, leaving Bellamy no other option but to look at him. “We’ll make a list, okay?” He turns the paper over and Bellamy makes a noise of protest, “God, Bell, it’s only a DUI form. Go get another. Okay, in order;” Miller starts scribbling as he speaks.

“One, Clarke Griffin is undeniably as in love with you as you are with her. Two, you have the most perfect four-day weekend planned that even if she doesn’t love – which she _does_ – that she’ll probably say yes because of the scenery. Three, her best friend has signed off on _everything_ , so nothing will be wrong. Four, your hotel is booked, and all of your reservations are made – nothing to panic about.”

Miller finishes with a flourish, looking up at Bellamy expectantly. He raises an eyebrow. “Anything else, partner?”

Bellamy frowns and looks away. “Fuck off, Miller.”

Miller sighs again, pushing the list under Bellamy’s nose. “God,”

“One day I’ll tell Monty that you think he’s fit – then we’ll see whose laughing.” Miller laughs sarcastically and rolls away, giving him the two fingered salute. Bellamy looks over the list and tries to calm himself, but it doesn’t seem to help in the slightest. He’s a jangling ball of nerves.

Pulling his mobile from his pocket, Bellamy sends a flurry of messages to Raven. She answers about three of them genially before she texts back in all capitals.

_BLAKE. CALM DOWN. IT’S GOING TO BE FINE._

Bellamy slips his phone back into his pocket, and ignores the knowing look he gets off all the married staff in the station.

* * *

Bellamy stays over at Clarke’s apartment that night, his suitcase leaning against the wall in the hall. Raven’s smirk is barely constrained, and Octavia looks so wound up by not knowing something that Bellamy fears she might snap.

Clarke’s already home from work when he gets in, and she wraps him up in a kiss the second he steps over the threshold.

“Hey, babe,”

“Evenin', princess. You all packed?” Bellamy forces himself to be calm, and smirks down at his girlfriend. Clarke rolls her eyes and drops her head onto his chest.

“I’ve been packed for almost a week, Bell. I don’t know what you think I’ll forget.”

Bellamy shrugs and kisses the top of her head. They order out for dinner, and then gorge themselves on Octavia’s cupcakes for pudding. When they go to bed Bellamy pulls Clarke closer to him and tries to sleep.

* * *

The cab comes for them at five, their flights at half six, and they step out into the heady French sunlight around midday. Bellamy struggles with both of their suitcases as Clarke dashes ahead and gasps at every scene she sees, probably committing them all to memory so she can draw them later.

The plan is for Bellamy to propose on Saturday, after they’ve had a tour of a vineyard and are both suitably tipsy. The couple spends most of Friday wandering the town, perusing and window shopping, and after dinner they swim in the sea (both of them may have lost their bathing suits).

Saturday morning comes with a fresh wave of nausea, and Bellamy bolts straight out of bed to his suitcase, flipping through his clothes to where the small, velvet box is nestled. He glances back to the bed, where Clarke is sprawled on her front, her hair spilling over her shoulders and gloriously naked. She’s as beautiful in sleep as she is in everything. Bellamy can feel his throat get thick just thinking of the life they could have together.

They shower together and get dressed together, Bellamy stealing as many kisses as he possibly can. Clarke looks at him weirdly the whole time, as if she knows that something is afoot. She still lets him steal her tomatoes at breakfast, though.

They’re part of a group trailing after the guide, and after the tour of the winery he lets them loose in the vineyard. Clarke and Bellamy stroll up the rows hand in hand, picking the occasional grape. Clarke is wearing a floaty blue dress and her hair is piled up on the top of her head. Bellamy kisses her impulsively, tasting the sweetness of fruit and sunshine on her lips. Clarke pulls away, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head and staring him down.

“What is this all about Bellamy?” She demands softly. Bellamy freezes.

“W-what is what about?”

“This,” Clarke sweeps an arm out, gesturing to the vineyard (Bellamy guesses that she means the entire holiday too, though), “You whisk me away for a weekend of sun, refuse to let me pay for anything, and spend the whole time looking like you’re about to cry! What is it?” Worry seeps into her tone, and Bellamy winces.

“I’m not about to cry, princess,” he says stubbornly, and Clarke glares at him.

“Seriously, Bell. What’s going on?” She tilts her chin up, “I’m a big girl; I can take it.”

“Oh, I know you can take it,” Bellamy quips, trying to smirk. Internally he’s scrambling – this is not how it’s supposed to go down. Clarke ignores the remark.

“Did something happen at the station? Have you still got a job?” She prods, her hands on his chest.

“What? Of course I’ve still got a – for fucks sake,” Bellamy grumbles, running a hand through his hair. Clarke bites her lip, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Will you marry me?” He asks in a rush, the words leaving his mouth before he can even consider them. Clarke blinks, utterly startled.

“What?”

Bellamy reaches into his pocket for the ring box. “This,” He nods at the nearest grapevine, “Was all about _this_.” He pushes the box into her hands, and immediately her face goes slack. She inhales deeply.

“You brought me here…to propose?” She asks carefully, her eyes on the box.

“I did. And a fine fucking job I did of it.” Bellamy says. He tries not to sound too aggressive, but Clarke hasn’t even opened the box yet and she hasn’t said anything approaching ‘yes’ yet. In his mind Bellamy runs through the list that Miller had made just two days before.

Clarke prises the box open slowly, her breath shallow. When it’s open she sobs, bringing one hand up to cover her face. Bellamy knows it can’t be because she hates the ring – an oval sapphire ringed with diamonds and set in white-gold - because Raven had said it was perfect, so Bellamy can only guess that it’s _him_ that Clarke doesn’t want.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy panics, “I don’t – you don’t, you can say –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Clarke cries, pushing the ring box back towards him, “Yes, yes, _yes_.” She keeps one hand on her face and holds her left one out towards him. She’s trembling, and Bellamy’s pretty sure that he’s shaking like a leaf too.

“Are you sure?” He whispers. Clarke nods.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. Please,”  Slowly, Bellamy plucks the engagement ring from its place and takes Clarke’s hand in his own. A nervous laugh bubbles from his chest. He looks down at her, keeping his eyes on hers. She nods again, more tears slipping out of her eyes. Bellamy grins, and is aware that his own eyes are less than dry.

He slips the ring onto her fourth finger, and it’s a perfect fit, like Raven promised. Clarke sobs again when she sees the ring in its proper place. In a rush she brings her hands up to his face and pulls him down for a kiss, her cheeks wet against his.

“I love you so much,” She whispers to him in between kisses. Bellamy murmurs the words back to her, wishing he could say it over and over a thousand times – and now realising that he can.

Clarke laughs a lot, when she realises that she ruined his master plan, but Bellamy finds that he prefers the way it actually happened over how he and Raven planned it.

They skip the rest of the tour, and they don’t make it to dinner that night. In fact, most Bellamy’s weekend is lost in a blur of soft skin and the golden glow of Clarke’s hair, her body bare apart from the sparkling ring on her left hand.


	2. mutual pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minty beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a dual pov, Miller and Monty.
> 
> (promppt from fearlessheroines from tumblr: miller and monty getting together)

“Mate, c’mon. It’s just one drink.”

“No.”

“We’re only going the pub,”

“I have work to do,”

“Miller, you can file that in the morning,”

“I’m not you, Bellamy, I like to get things _done,_ ” Nathan moves away from his partner, shuffling his papers determinedly. Bellamy sighs heavily, like Nathan is the most troublesome thing he’s ever had to deal with. He’s been bugging Nathan all day about coming out for a drink with his friends after work, for some reason holding back his best card. Now he’s cornered Nathan in the break room, a devilish smile on his face.

“Monty will be there.” Ah, there it is.

Nathan turns to his partner and gives him his best ‘do I look amused’ face. It doesn’t work. Bellamy grins.

“ _Come on._ It’ll be fun.” Nathan splutters.

“Fun? Do you remember the last time you mad me go out with your friends? Because I do.”

Fun was not the word to describe it. More like ‘horrific, embarrassing, and traumatic’. Miller had ended up spilling his drink all over Bellamy’s girlfriend, nearly got into a fist-fight with some dick by the pool table, then got so drunk that he spent the final hour of the night crying on the shoulders of a slight Asian man, who was also the cutest guy that Nathan’s ever seen.

The man turned out to be Monty, who was one of Bellamy’s closest friends.

Now, Nathan likes his partner a lot. They work together every day, and in pretty close quarters, so he’d even stretch and say that they’re friends. But no way is he standing through Bellamy laughing at his inability to talk to people he fancies.

“No.” He says again, more firmly, turning on his heel and marching back to his desk.

And, of course, the thought of seeing Monty again plants itself in his head and grows throughout the rest of his shift. So when he clocks out at six, he falls into step by Bellamy.

“Where’re we going, then?”

Bellamy grins.

* * *

 

“You know,” Jasper says idly, leaning as far back on his stool as he can without falling over, one hand on the kitchen island, “Bellamy’s friend is coming tonight,”

Monty tries to ignore him, his eyes on his laptop. Jasper picks a cheerio out of his bowl and throws it at him. It misses, pinging off the countertop.

“Which one?”

“Which one!” Jasper scoffs, “ _Which one_.”

“That’s what I said, Jas.”

Jasper rolls his eyes and flings a whole handful of cheerios towards Monty.

“Hey!” he yelps, leaning to cover his laptop.

“Seriously. _Everyone_ saw how you were practically drooling over him,”

Monty snorts, “Was that before or after he cried on me?”

“Hah!” Jasper cheers, “You _know_ who I’m talking about!”

Monty flicks the cheerios away from his laptop and picks it up, deciding he’d much rather finish his work in his bedroom.

* * *

 

Nathan lets his partner drive, seeing as he doesn’t actually know the way to the pub. It’s not far from the station, so Nathan will probably walk back.

He tries to brace himself throughout the five minute journey. Bellamy notices pretty quickly, and his expression doesn’t soften in the slightest.

“It’ll be fine. Clarke likes you.”

“I ruined her blouse.” Nathan protests. Bellamy shrugs.

“She has more.”

Nathan spends the rest of the way scowling out of the window, cataloguing the turns they talk so he can make it back later. Bellamy pulls his car up on the kerb outside a corner pub, its swinging sign declaring it as The Dropship. A galleon is painted in the background, violet waves rushing up to meet its hull.

Nathan takes it as a bad omen.

He follows Bellamy into the pub with no small amount of trepidation – which is ridiculous, because he’s six foot tall and built of no small amount of muscle. But the thought of making a fool of himself again is just short of terrifying.

Bellamy spots his friends immediately, heading to the back of the pub, already taking off his coat. Clarke stands up to greet him, kissing him square on the lips. By her side is a dark haired woman, who leaps to her feet to tackle Bellamy into a hug once Clarke lets him go.

“Hey, O,” Bellamy grunts, his arms going around the woman. Miller puts the new face to a name; Octavia. He’s heard his fair share of stories about Bellamy’s little sister in the patrol car.

“Guys, you remember Miller,” He says, sweeping his hand back to Nathan. Everyone bar Octavia nods, who smiles and leans around Bellamy to shake Nathan’s hand.

“Yeah, Bell’s partner right?”

The lad with goggles, Jasper, trundles off to the bar to get the first round in, and Nathan settles into the vacant spot by Monty; who looks up at him with the most endearing smile that Nathan’s ever seen.

* * *

 

Monty holds his breath when he spots Bellamy heading towards them. All around the table his friends snicker and nudge him with their nearest limb – Octavia pokes him with her _foot_.

Behind Bellamy strides Miller, his hands jammed into his pockets. Monty nearly swoons at the sight of him; he’s let his beard grow out since they last met.

Clarke greets Bellamy in her usual way, as does Octavia, and shortly after Jasper scrambles to his feet after winking at Monty, declaring that he was going to get the next round in. Monty tries not to groan as Miller slides into the seat next to him, looking uncomfortable. Instead, he gives the officer his best smile, and tries not to make too big a fool of himself.

* * *

 

It becomes usual, after that night, for Miller to tag along after work, and soon Bellamy’s friends become _his_ friends too. He gets invited to the parties even if Bellamy won’t be there, and he finds himself going out to lunch with Clarke, and then Raven, and then Octavia too. Jasper flails and demands he comes over for poker night, and that spawns a whole load of different engagements that Nathan could escape if he wanted to, but he finds that he’d actually prefer to go.

It does mean that he has to see Monty, though.

They’ve become friends, like Nathan has with the rest of the group, but Nathan has managed to keep Monty at an arm’s length. It’s how it needs to be. Monty has never once expressed interest, and Nathan doesn’t want to risk everything on assumptions. So he’s dated elsewhere, men and women alike, none holding his interest quite as well as the engineer with an angelic smile.

* * *

 

Monty doesn’t begrudge Bellamy having his own friends outside of their little circle, he just wishes they aren’t so damned _attractive_. He also wishes that Bellamy didn’t invite him everywhere, and that everyone would latch onto Miller so quickly. He especially wishes that Jasper hadn’t of included Miller into their poker nights, so that Monty would have to stare across the table at the perfection that is Officer Nathan Miller.

God, why are all the cute ones straight?

* * *

 

Almost a year and a half later, Nathan finds him going not to their usual haunt after work, but to Clarke’s apartment instead. It’s a party to celebrate her and Bellamy’s engagement, and Nathan couldn’t be happier for them.

Bellamy had managed to swing an early shift on the day, so Miler headed to the party by himself. He had a bottle of wine, and a tin of cakes that he would never admit to making on the backseat. The party sounded like it was in full swing when he knocked on the door, and it took a few seconds for the door to be flung open by Jasper.

“Miller!” He crowed, launching himself forward to trap Nathan in a hug. With both of his hands full, Nathan can do little else but accept it. “C’mon, into the kitchen!”

He follows Jasper, an amused smile on his lips. Raven and Octavia are stood by the fridge, their heads bent together. They look up as he approaches, their smiles growing.

“Miller, hey,” Raven says, moving to take the wine and the cakes. Octavia winks and gives him a hug.

“Monty’s over there,” She points towards the lounge. Nathan raises his eyebrows.

“Shouldn’t I be saying ‘hi’ to Clarke first?”

Octavia rolls her eyes and Jasper laughs.

“This has gone one for far too long,” Raven mutters as she pushes him out of the kitchen.

* * *

 

Monty is beginning to think that he’s developed a sixth sense; one that alerts him whenever Miller’s within a hundred yards of him.

He’s in the living room, talking tech with Wick, when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. And sure enough, when he turns around he can see Miller in the kitchen. Monty looks away quickly when Raven starts to manoeuvre Miller out of the room and towards the sitting room.

Wick notices the glance, cutting his sentence off halfway. Grinning, he pats Monty solidly on the shoulder and stands up.

“Miller!” He calls, “Be a pal and mind my seat for me? I need to speak to a mechanic.

Monty hisses every swear word he knows at Wick and tries to sink into the couch cushions.

* * *

 

Nathan gets a clap on the shoulder from Wick as he passes the man, and is very confused by how the conversation in the room dips slightly before he sits down. He settles onto the couch next to Monty, whose face is bright red, and who looks like he _really_ doesn’t want to be there. The last comment from Raven is ringing in his head, and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it.

“Uh, hey, Monty.” Nathan says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Monty makes a noise that’s close to a squeak and nods, his smile strained.

“Hi, Miller,” he replies, his eyes firmly on the floor. Nathan looks away too, uncomfortable at how uncomfortable Monty is. And here Nathan panics, because if he’s that uncomfortable he must have picked up on something that Nathan’s said, and oh god. _Oh god_ , Monty knows that Nathan fancies him.

* * *

 

Monty can feel his heartbeat in his cheeks, that’s how flushed they are. He’s pretty sure that Miller now thinks that he’s a massive weirdo with terrible manners.

“Are you, uh, alright, Monty?” Miller asks, his voice cracking slightly. Monty looks up at him quickly, his eyes wide.

Miller looks concerned and worried, his eyes searching Monty’s face for something. Monty swallows heavily and looks away again, his fingers curling into fists. He can feel his face heating up even more.

“Fine, thank you.” He replies weakly, “Just thinking about…uh,” he glances at Miller then away.

Miller inhales sharply, leaning back as if Monty’s done something terrible. Alarmed, Monty looks up at Miller, whose staring at him, his face frozen in horror. Monty stills completely.

Oh no.

* * *

 

Nathan feels the urge to run. Like, _flee to France_ kind of run. Because Monty is staring at him with a slack-jaw and looks terribly embarrassed.

“I’ll, uh-” Nathan says, thinking of any excuse at all that he can use. He’s interrupted by a shout from Octavia, and the whole room goes quiet.

“Alright, stop! You’re both fucking _useless_.” She states, her hands on her hips.

“Christ,” Raven adds, scowling, “Stop bloody avoiding each other. It’s painful to watch.”

“I don’t-”

“I’m not sure-” Nathan and Monty say at the same time, their heads snapping between the two women, and each other.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Octavia yells, “Monty likes Miller, and Miller likes Monty!”

* * *

 

Monty looks at Miller, sure his face has finally gone supernova. Miller meets his eyes, his face wild.

“You like-”

“Are you-”

Raven whistles sharply, and, as if they’ve planned it, the whole room empties in a matter of seconds, leaving only Monty, Miller, and the two tonne elephant.

Miller clears his throat.

“I,” he winces, “Didn’t know you were gay,”

Monty snorts nervously. He claps a hand to his face in horror, which makes Miller look even more bewildered.

“I am.” Monty reassures, “I just didn’t know that _you_ were.”

* * *

 

Nathan laughs, because this whole situation is fucking ridiculous. Monty’s face is so red you could probably roast marshmallows with it.

“Bi, but whatever,” Nathan says, unsure of what to say after that. Monty smiles nervously, fingers playing with a loose thread on his jeans.

“This is weird.” He says softly.

“Yeah,” Nathan agrees.

“We… _like_ each other?”

Nathan smiles at his wording, because Monty is still the cutest thing ever. “I guess we do.”

“And, uh, what do we do about it?”

* * *

 

Miller smirks suddenly, and Monty’s heart starts beating so fast he’s honestly surprised that it doesn’t explode.

“What do _you_ want to do about it?” He asks, using a tone of voice that Monty could never have imagined being aimed at him. He almost melts; Miller’s voice is suddenly deeper and rougher, and so perfectly pitched.

God knows where the confidence has come from, but Monty’s mind is made up in a second. He leans across the space between them and plants a kiss firmly on Miller’s lips.

* * *

 

Nathan freezes.

Monty is kissing him.

Monty Green is _kissing_ him.

* * *

 

After what seems like an eternity, during which Monty is afraid that he’s made a terrible mistake and ruined everything forever, he feels Miller’s lips start to move against his own.

Monty wants to dance, but settles for gripping the front of Miller’s shirt and hauling him closer. Miller comes willingly, his hands going to Monty’s neck.

When they have to pull apart for air Monty sighs, either out of contentment or disappointment because it’s over.

“I think,” he says, licking his lips, “that we should do this a lot,”

* * *

 

Nathan feels the hum build in his throat, agreeing to Monty’s idea readily.

“But,” he says, after kissing him again, “You have to call me Nathan,”

Monty nods, then pauses, grinning.

“What about Officer Miller?”

Nathan groans, because that should not sound as hot as it does. He doesn’t reply, choosing to kiss Monty senseless instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per, find me at tumblr; catchmeifyouwantto  
> prompts and stuff are always welcome! :)

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to leave a prompt or anything, drop a comment here or at my tumblr; catchmeifyouwantto


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